fennel gazpacho: jersey tomatoes, sautéed fennel and onion, yellow bell pepper, zucchini, lemon, lime, olive oil, fresh parsley, sea salt, hot sauce and pepper to garnish

cod sautéed in butter [...]]]> This is a long blog post. I will show you what I am calling pre-ice cream fuel to whet your appetite:

fennel gazpacho: jersey tomatoes, sautéed fennel and onion, yellow bell pepper, zucchini, lemon, lime, olive oil, fresh parsley, sea salt, hot sauce and pepper to garnish

cod sautéed in butter with garlic, thyme, parsley, and cherry tomatoes; ciabatta bread

When I was a senior in high school, I became part of a very special group of friends. Throughout middle and high school, I had always had a few close friends, but it wasn’t until this group of 13 of us came together early in our final year that I truly felt a part of a whole.

We were all good kids. We took honors classes. We got along with our parents. We made it home by our curfews [most of the time]. We baked cookies instead of doing shots. We related to each other, and for the first time, I felt the power of belonging.

Since then, I’ve experienced many communities: film production students, American expats abroad, musical theater nerds, overdressed NYU kids, health-minded foodies, to name a few. I think the knowledge that there are people out there who “get” you is one of the most comforting realizations you can have.

A few years ago, when I got into running, I remember how excited I felt to be part of a new community. I could run faster, I could run farther, I could set goals and I could achieve them, and there were others working towards the same thing. Then I got sidelined by the knee injury that wouldn’t go away, and this community I identified with was ripped from underneath me. For a while, I still read running blogs and magazines and articles; for a while I still thought about what I would do when I could get back on the pavement.

But when my injury persisted, I realized that pining for something I couldn’t have would never get me anywhere. So I stopped. I got into yoga. It felt sort of solitary, as yoga wasn’t embraced as strongly by the young, active, healthy living community, but I reminded myself that solitary was ok. Eventually, I was able to start running again once a week, and I made peace with that. I still loved exercising. I still loved sweating. It still made me feel awesome. I was just doing it in my own way.

As nice as I know it feels to belong to a community, I pride myself on my independence, and so I slowly became comfortable marching to my own exercise drum. I was Leslie who loved yoga, the same way I was Leslie who designed her own college major, who went abroad when everyone was getting full-time jobs after college, who sometimes purposely mismatched her clothes or showed up in dresses on occasions that never called for them.

When I talked about yoga with other active women, they would often say to me, “Oh, you’re so good. Oh, I should do that more.” Somehow, I always struggled to communicate that while I adore yoga, it was something that my body chose. I wasn’t sure my body could handle another form of movement.

Around April of this year, I began to test that theory by trying out new forms of exercise. I went hiking. I ran a little more and did it a little faster. I took barre classes. I took other fitness classes. I still did yoga, of course, but not as much. Suddenly, I re-discovered the fitness community as I tried out new-to-me workouts in which I could sweat and challenge myself just as much as I had when running. I was having fun, seeking out reviews of new studios and instructors, becoming familiar with women who were into the same thing, feeling that sense of being “hard core” the way I had back when I only ran. I started to feel that sense of belonging again, and I found that I had missed it.

Here and there, as I switched things up, I felt occasional twinges in my knees. I didn’t think much of them; that had always happened from time to time.

Then, 4 weeks ago, my knees started to severely ache, and the ache didn’t go away. I’m pretty sure I can trace it back to a class I took called 30/60/90, which wiped the walls with me in the best way. However, it also involved a lot of jumping. Jumping is not good for people with knee problems.

Day after day, the pain persisted. Right then, I made the choice to stay off the pavement and out of the fitness studios, and I have gotten back onto my yoga mat. I’ve gone back to my solitary yogic path.

So I was in a yoga class on Monday night, and the instructor had us partner up with a neighbor to practice handstands at the wall. For a moment, I found myself caught up in the “fitness mentality,” thinking, “I just want to move! We only have 30 minutes left! Why is he spending so much time explaining this?” And then I was at the wall, and with a little push from my partner, I was in a handstand for the very first time.

My entire body was shaking, my arms were burning, and I felt like the strongest person in the universe. I came down, semi-gracefully. And then I did a handstand again.

This is why I love yoga. It has nothing to do with getting a good workout. It has everything to do with challenging myself to do things I never thought I could do.

As my friend Sofia reminded me while we cooked the dinner pictured above, injuries are not something with which you want to play around. There are far worse problems than not being able to exercise the way you want. Yes, there are times when I wish I could be like everybody else. It would be nice to be as active as I choose, and I am sure I would be motivated enough to achieve many fitness goals. As a young, active person devoted to living a healthy life, I would like to be able to share in the active side of that community.

But my body keeps telling me that I can’t. Since rededicating myself to my yoga practice four to five days a week, I have felt dramatic improvement in my knees. I’m due for a new pair of running shoes, and I will cautiously bring back that occasional run. Perhaps I’ll do other classes from time to time. But otherwise, for the foreseeable future, I’m a yoga girl.

Maybe that will always keep me on the edge of the fitness community. I’m ok with that. Diving into that handstand reminded me just how wonderful it can be to do my own thing.

share

Oh, look: it’s everything Leslie loves in one place!

The spread above was preceded by a challenging, sweaty, wonderfully spiritual yoga class. Clearly, this was a good night.

Thanks to my dear friend Sofia, I was able to attend an event titled Vino y Yoga last Wednesday, hosted by my favorite yoga studio, Pure Yoga, and [...]]]>

Oh, look: it’s everything Leslie loves in one place!

The spread above was preceded by a challenging, sweaty, wonderfully spiritual yoga class. Clearly, this was a good night.

Thanks to my dear friend Sofia, I was able to attend an event titled Vino y Yoga last Wednesday, hosted by my favorite yoga studio, Pure Yoga, and led by her favorite yoga instructor, Isauro Fernandez.

I first tried out Isauro’s class last February during my lucky month of membership at Pure, but I had familiarized myself with him through Twitter well before. I clearly remember reading his words one Saturday morning, when he mentioned sipping on sangria at brunch after a double teaching session that morning.  A power yoga instructor that encourages reveling in food and wine?  I knew his class was one I needed to take.

As expected, I loved Isauro’s style of teaching, which fuses fluid vinyasa with martial arts. I always leave his presence feeling worked out and open in every corner of my body: he starts students slow, then builds up the heat, instructing us to perform sun salutations again, again, again, 3 more times, again. His classes are challenging and playful: in this one in particular, I got to work on arm balances, make feeble attempts at handstands, try shooting my legs up to forearm stand [I'm getting closer...]. He has us work our cores and stretch our backs, and then we end up in a long, quiet period of reflection at the end. If someone decided to gift me with a Pure membership again, I can only imagine the benefits I’d see and feel from regularly taking this class.

On this special occasion last week, we followed yoga with a taste of four wines and a few snacks: olive oil-marinated artichoke hearts, tortilla española, manchego cheese, olives, dark chocolate. Wine refills were poured, and I left the studio more than a little tipsy several hours after I had arrived. At 12:30 AM, I arrived home ridiculously happy, high on the company of my incredible friends, the taste of great wines, the blog community that has given me the opportunity to attend events like these [and meet many wonderful women, including several new-to-me bloggers this evening], and of course, the release that can only be achieved through power yoga.

I truly believe that sweat is the single most therapeutic tool in the world. Earlier this morning, as I was running along the East River for likely the last time before my big move, I sweated out last night’s wine and the frustrations that can only be caused by the opposite sex. In this class last Wednesday, I left self-induced work stress in a puddle on my mat. Tomorrow morning, I look forward to forgetting that I have to pack up my entire apartment on Friday during an hour pre-work class.

Sweat sessions don’t always go well.  I felt strong in Isauro’s class last week, but this morning my legs seemed heavy, and I had to stop and stretch out my knees halfway through. But the point always is that I get out and do it, that I set a goal and achieve it, that I push myself and also recognize when I need to hold back. Knowing I can achieve my physical goals makes the mental ones seem just a bit more attainable. Work doesn’t seem stressful. Boys don’t seem so dramatic. Mistakes don’t seem so big. I can balance my body weight on my arms; I can stand on my head; I can run a few miles; I can hike up a mountain. That means I can handle life too.

At this event last week, I loved that after I acknowledged all that, I got to celebrate life too. Friends, food, and drink is the best way I know to do just that. I should follow yoga with wine more often.

share

Last night, I added the following event to my iPhone calendar:

February 18, 2010 6:30 AM – 7:15 AM Title: Run! Location: Outside!!

A high of 65 degrees! It’s almost beautiful outside today.

I don’t typically schedule exercise into my calendar – I’m a planner, but even that is too type A [...]]]> pumpkin and flax pancakes with almond butter; caramelized banana.

Last night, I added the following event to my iPhone calendar:

February 18, 2010
6:30 AM – 7:15 AM
Title: Run!
Location: Outside!!

A high of 65 degrees! It’s almost beautiful outside today.

I don’t typically schedule exercise into my calendar – I’m a planner, but even that is too type A for me. But this was a special occasion. Ballet flat weather in mid-February? I had an unbreakable date with the East River.

I love that I am able to exercise my brain on a daily basis at my job. I love that I have friends and family with whom I can share intelligent conversations, and I am thankful that I am capable of writing and reading and generally utilizing my mind each day. I think our brains are the most important muscle to flex.

But as my workload seems to be quadrupling on a daily basis, I am realizing how critical it is for my overall well-being to take the opportunity to shut my brain off.

That’s where exercise comes in. Because when your yoga teacher is bellowing out, “Feel the now,” as mine did on Wednesday evening, and when all you can feel in the now is the burning sensation screaming from your triceps up through your shoulders, as I did in that class – well, you can’t think of anything else. You can’t dwell on work or relationships or life dramas of any kind.

After 11 hours of writing and thinking and completing some algebra and writing some more, I experienced such release in that yoga class. I no longer had to be in charge of my life. All I had to do was follow the lead of my teacher. All I had to do was perform whatever movement he told me to do. All I had to do was breathe.

I sometimes wonder how people are able to survive without exercising physically, because those few hours a week are so vital to my sanity. It doesn’t have to happen every day, and for me it certainly doesn’t. But the knowledge that I have a yoga class or a run to look forward to throughout the week does so much for me.

And that is why this morning, in the warm weather, I ran for a little while. I came home, ate pumpkin pancakes for breakfast, and I was ready to face the day.

share

chili-spiked polenta; sautéed black beans, swiss chard, and brussels sprouts; pan-fried egg.

Early last December, I got an excellent deal ($15!) on a two-week pass to a little hot power yoga studio near Union Square. Throughout those fourteen days, I went to a class nearly every day. I felt like challenging myself. I [...]]]>

chili-spiked polenta; sautéed black beans, swiss chard, and brussels sprouts; pan-fried egg.

Early last December, I got an excellent deal ($15!) on a two-week pass to a little hot power yoga studio near Union Square. Throughout those fourteen days, I went to a class nearly every day. I felt like challenging myself. I pushed myself out into the cold at 6:15 AM for morning classes; I even made it on a Saturday morning after a Friday with a lot little too much wine. By the end, I was sore and tired, but I had had a great time.

Those two weeks were an exception to my reality. Because really, I am not that intense about exercise.

I’m not exactly sure when exercise became something I do for fun rather than something I do to be healthy. I can clearly remember the days when I worked to see it as a healthy outlet, as opposed to a method of weight loss/maintenance. But I can’t pinpoint just when it became something else altogether.

Tonight, I am going to the yoga studio for the first time in a week. Since last Wednesday, instead of yoga, I have traveled to Florida, seen an exhibit at MoMa, gone out for a glass of wine, and cooked myself a decent dinner [see above]. Those were my priorities. Tonight, yoga is the priority.

I get that some people are more rigid with exercise. I have friends I consider superstar runners, and completing a certain set of workouts each week helps them to reach their goals. I respect that, and I’m consistently impressed by their athletic capabilities. But at this stage of my life, that isn’t me.

I don’t keep track of how many hours I exercise each week, set goals, or stress if I miss a yoga class. I do believe keeping active is important for both physical and mental health, and so it is a part of my life. Mostly though, it is a form of my entertainment.

Sometimes I think, “Maybe I should be more intense.  Maybe I should work harder.  Maybe I should do more, see what I am really capable of.”

But then I remember, “Where would my life – my life that I love living – be?” How would I have the time to try a new restaurant, see a new play, meet a friend for happy hour, read a book, plan a trip, write anything?  I don’t wish to be only a “healthy person,” who lives a life around greens and whole grains and a log of exercise.  I have to be Leslie, who leads a healthy life, who finds room in her schedule for yoga because it makes her smile, and who is a whole lot more than just “healthy.”

I know that those two weeks in December were fun because they were two weeks. They were not my life. They were not forever. They were a temporary experiment and sweaty entertainment.

Likewise, a couple weekends ago, I went to a two-hour hot vinyasa class. Afterward, a few of my friends asked me how it was: Did I die? Was I exhausted? Was I crazy?

My only response? “It was fun!” If it hadn’t been, I would never have gone.

share

oatmeal with a banana, vanilla soy milk, raisins, flax, cashews, cinnamon, ginger, almond butter; french press coffee.

Reverb 10 Day 13!   Today’s prompt is: When it comes to aspirations, its not about ideas.  It’s about making ideas happen.  What’s your next step?  [What am I talking about? Click here for [...]]]> “walk out the door.”

oatmeal with a banana, vanilla soy milk, raisins, flax, cashews, cinnamon, ginger, almond butter; french press coffee.

Reverb 10 Day 13!   Today’s prompt is: When it comes to aspirations, its not about ideas.  It’s about making ideas happen.  What’s your next step?  [What am I talking about? Click here for the backstory.]

When it comes to exercise, I of course identify myself as a yoga person.  But I also like running – I think it’s fun, it gets me sweaty, and considering I thought my knees were done with it for life, I certainly appreciate the “once every week or so” occasions on which I can get out and do it.

Last night, I decided it would be nice to run before work this morning.  I don’t generally struggle to wake up early.  I’m an AM person, and while I use an alarm, I typically bounce up within a few minutes of hearing it ring.

Today was not one of those days.

•

6:00 AM: Alarm buzzes.  “No. Why was I up until midnight reading the archives of Stuff Hipsters Hate?”  Hit snooze.

6:09 AM: Snooze alarm buzzes.  “I’m tired.  Ok.  Ok.  I should just get out of bed.”

6:11 AM: Walk into bathroom.  “My shoulders are sore. My quads are sore. Both yoga classes this weekend were super intense.  I need more sleep.”

6:14 AM: Get back into bed.  Shut off bedroom light.  “I could run after work.”

6:15 AM: “Oh right, I have potential happy hour plans after work.  Also, in the history of my employed life, I’ve actually run after work like…twice.”

6:16 AM: “If I leave right now, I can be back in time to shower before my sister needs the bathroom.”

6:18 AM: Look at the current temperature on my phone.  “45 degrees!  It might not be 45 degrees again for 4 months.  I should take advantage of this.”

6:20 AM: Get out of bed.  “Meh, I’m tired.”  Lay back down.

6:22 AM: “I can’t tell if my leg soreness is actual muscle soreness or just ’6:20 in the morning’ soreness.  I’m leaning towards the latter.  It’ll probably feel good to get myself moving.”

6:24 AM: Check my Twitter feed on my phone.  “Oh look, Megan wrote a new blog post.  Aw, she wrote about our night on Friday.  I love my friends.”

6:28 AM: Check my email.  “Oh hey, the Reverb 10 prompt for today.  I have absolutely no idea how I am going to respond to that.”

6:30 AM: “Seriously?  The past thirty minutes have completely negated getting back into bed in the first place.”

6:31 AM: “You know, I could turn this all into a blog post.”

6:32 AM: “This post will be a lot less relevant if I don’t actually go out and run.”

6:35 AM: “I guess I could run, eat breakfast in my sweaty clothes, and shower after.”

6:38 AM: Drink some water and double knot my sneakers.

6:41 AM: Walk out the door.

•

I realize a “running as life” metaphor is not exactly groundbreaking stuff.  But in my current stage of twentysomething uncertainty, this one really resonates.

Truthfully, I’m not sure what my next step in life is going to be.  But I do know that no matter what goes on in my brain, putting one foot in front of the other and walking out into the world is the best way to figure it out.  It might be as basic as going out for a run, or it might be far more lofty, like applying for my job.

Opportunity isn’t always apparent unless we go out and find it.  This morning, the opportunities were simple ones: the chance to see the sunrise underneath the FDR and sweat before breakfast, making the bowl taste just a little bit sweeter.

share

pre-yoga snacking: ripe banana.

Reverb 10 Day 12!  Today’s prompt is: This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body?  Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?  [What am I talking about? Click here for the backstory.]

I really love to [...]]]> “the world inverted.”

pre-yoga snacking: ripe banana.

Reverb 10 Day 12!  Today’s prompt is: This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body?  Did you have a moment where there wasn’t mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?  [What am I talking about? Click here for the backstory.]

I really love to sweat.

Growing up in ballet classes, I would stand at the barre on a weekday evening, torso motionless as I lifted one pointed foot towards the same patch of air one, two, 39 times.  With each battement, the bodies of we girls in pale pink tights would begin to glisten.  Ballet dancers didn’t sweat, of course.  We “glowed.”

Learning to run in later years, I began to crave the red-faced, heavy breathing-induced perspiration that was inevitable as one foot, and then the other, struck the pavement.  This was a different kind of intensity than the hard-working glow of ballet class.  This was “I just kicked my own tush, and hard” sweat.

In the past year and a half, my hunger for sweat has been satiated by yoga.  There have been spurts of other activity – running when I can, riding a bike, hitting the gym.  But above all else, I have cared mostly about activity on the mat.

So it’s July 2010.  For two months this summer, I enjoyed a short-term, discounted membership to YogaWorks, a multi-location studio that allowed me to experiment with different teachers and different styles.  Predictably, some I liked, some I loved, some were boring.  Rather quickly though, I found one class that had me running back for more.

From 8 to 9AM on Mondays and Wednesdays, I visited the downtown location for a sweaty hour with a young, female, Czech instructor.  Somehow, in those 60 minutes, we would always get to everything I’d wish for in a yoga class.  We would move fast.  We would twist often.  We would end with backbends.  And we would try inversions.

On one Wednesday morning in July, class was nearing its end.  I was at the wall, hands clasped at the front of my mat, feet on the ground.

And then, my legs were in the air, and I was upside down.

Much of yogic philosophy doesn’t particularly appeal to me.  I am not a spiritual person.  I am not a minimalist.  I live in Manhattan, and I own 26 pairs of shoes.

I like yoga because it is a challenge.  Because when I am practicing, it is impossible to think about my life or my calendar or the people I know or the city streets.  My mind is forced to focus on physical challenges I would have no other opportunity to face.

Standing against that wall, looking out at the world opposite how it was meant to be seen, I was exposed.  My body was sweating.  My triceps were burning.  My abs were clenching.  My shirt was falling towards the floor.

And my thoughts were pure shock.  How could I, somehow, lift one leg towards the sky and float the other to meet it?  It happened like it was natural, like I was always meant to have feet higher than head.  Balancing upside down, how could I think of anything but where I was, right then?  It was a perfect union: my doubts disappeared, my body took over, and I was simply there, doing and feeling something I had never done or felt before.

Here’s the thing.  I haven’t always felt union of body and of mind.  I have hated on this body that I live in.  My mind has pushed it and prodded it and abused it.  In 2010, and in that moment upside down, there was no war between the two.  I was no longer a number or an imperfection or a muscle or lack thereof.  I was only Leslie: proud, sweaty, and strong.

share

Though they are rather predictable for me, they are important undertakings nonetheless.

One: experience every wine bar in the city.

Two: take advantage of every yoga deal in midtown and lower Manhattan.

a new wine bar: vyne, where a look of disappointment at the lack of flights on the [...]]]> I am currently on two missions in life.

Though they are rather predictable for me, they are important undertakings nonetheless.

One: experience every wine bar in the city.

Two: take advantage of every yoga deal in midtown and lower Manhattan.

a new wine bar: vyne, where a look of disappointment at the lack of flights on the menu got us a round of flights anyway.  it never hurts to ask.

Location doesn’t matter much in the case of the first operation, only quality whites and reds and a good atmosphere.  Last week, I made some good progress, visiting no less than four in a row.  The last [Vintage Irving] was the least impressive, but it served its purpose of preceding an evening spent getting covered in paint in a Brooklyn basement.  The other three included Vyne, situated in my old NYU stomping grounds, with a gorgeous atmosphere that is more than a bit out of place in that section of the village.  I never turn down an opportunity for classiness, especially when it allowed me to reunite with my twin and finally meet the wonderful, wonderful Amy.

Then there was the new Tribeca location of Terroir, one of my favorite spots for a good glass or two.  This new space is about quadruple the size of the miniature East Village original, but it was no less packed when my friend and I made our way inside on Friday evening.  I’m already scheming a trip back to experience the food as well.

hudson terrace: 90 degrees, sunny, seven wines on offer.

And finally, Hudson Terrace, which my happy hour gals and I visited for a mere $12 in exchange for the promise of a rooftop wine tasting.  The evening delivered, with quite a bit of swank [the most amusing aspect, I think, was the fact that likely 90% of those in attendance had entered with the $12 deal, and yet, people were lounging up there as though it was as exclusive as could be.]  ”Tastings” began as half glasses, and as the night moved on, they became far closer to full glasses.  As our entrance fee entitled us to six tastes, we were clearly up there until the sun had gone down.

sometimes you have to do two wines at once.

Next on the list: Ayza, for jazz and wine Mondays.  Further suggestions are seriously welcome.

And the second undertaking?  Well, as my adoration of yoga is equal to my devotion to wine, mission number two [though a bit more controlled and quiet] is no less essential.   I feel like I’m in a place where I’m comfortable in my practice, and I need to be pushed out of my comfort zone. [Aka, get to classes where I have opportunities to prepare for arm balances and inversions that I am completely incapable of doing - yet.]

going with the wine theme: cabernet poached salmon, aka the best salmon i have ever cooked.  simple, moist perfection, with millet and string beans.

Last night was my only free night this week and mid-day, the thought of spending it at the yoga studio popped in my head.  I couldn’t shake the desire to go, even though I had been to a class that morning: I can’t help it if I have a yoga obsession.

Going to that class last night was one of the better decisions I’ve made in my life, as it was led by an unbelievable male instructor, was set to pop and rock music [I'm talking sun salutations to Lady Gaga], was performed in heat with dimmed lights, and basically destroyed me in the most fantastic way.  I’m feeling a need to take this class regularly and improve – and preferably do it on a day during which I haven’t already completed endless chaturangas in morning Ashtanga.  Monetary decisions are ahead.

So, wine and yoga: both missions are well underway, but as I live in a city of endless options, there is much more exploring to do.  And so, I’ve added a page to share more on the second, as I am sure I am not the only one looking out for Manhattan yoga deals.  Click here for more info!

Have you got a summer mission?

share

I just didn’t believe it.  I was convinced that they were hiding another motive: perhaps they felt they needed to exercise X amount in order to eat X amount, or they felt they wouldn’t maintain their [...]]]> In the past, I could never understand people who led intensely active lifestyles and claimed they simply “enjoyed it.”  

I just didn’t believe it.  I was convinced that they were hiding another motive: perhaps they felt they needed to exercise X amount in order to eat X amount, or they felt they wouldn’t maintain their weight without X hours of cardio, or they felt their physique would be lost if they missed out on some movement.  I know those opinions aren’t completely unfounded: there do happen to be a lot of people who suffer from those thoughts.

I used to be one of them.  Back then, I always associated exercise with the body and with food, and that mindset created an inability to comprehend how anyone would possibly choose to move simply “because.”  

while coming to the following revelations, i also enjoyed salad heaven: baby spinach, string beans, jicama, avocado, champagne mango, dressed simply in a T of olive oil.

This morning, I went to a new yoga class.  One of the effects of my Bikram month has been the realization that I need to practice more often in a studio.  I can supplement classes with my own at-home practice, but I can’t go back to being by my lonesome 100% of the time.  It just isn’t the same.  In order to do that, however, I also need to be a bit thrifty, and I’m therefore currently on a hunt for every yoga deal in lower Manhattan [more on that another time].  

Today, the deal was a 90 minute Kundalini yoga class for $12 at New Field Yoga, a relatively new studio that happens to be next door to one of my old NYU dorms in the Financial District. [I do mean old.  I lived there in 2004.]

Kundalini yoga was completely new to me, and it was much more spiritual and far less physical than I am used to.  But I like trying new things, and there was nothing I would rather have been doing at 10 AM than sitting on a yoga mat.

with salad heaven came greek yogurt heaven: stir an extra large spoonful of almond butter into fage 2%.  drizzle with just a touch of maple syrup.  sigh in happiness.

After class, as I walked home, totally energized in the perfect spring air, I began to wonder what it would be like to go for a run.  Aside from very occasional discomfort affected by certain weather patterns or days on which I’ve done too much walking, my knees have really been fine.  I don’t intend to ever be “a runner” again, but I’ve been getting curious about the possibility of going out for a couple miles every now and then.  [The last time I tried this out, it didn't go so well.]

I arrived back home, downed some water, swapped my yoga shorts for gym shorts, laced up my sneakers [orthotics in place inside them], grabbed my keys, and headed back outside.  The sun was shining.  The breeze was strong.  The air was comfortable.  I ran down to Battery Park, over to the Hudson.  I stopped and gazed out at the murky water, at the beauty of the city behind me.  There was nothing I would rather have been doing at 12 PM than moving out there in my running shoes. [No knee pain yet, by the way.]

in addition to being one of those people who like to be active, i am also a person who really loves healthy things.  new flavor of kombucha.  on sale.  yum.

As I prepared my lunch this afternoon, I had to reflect on my personal growth.  I wasn’t eating because of my active morning.  I was eating because it was lunchtime, and I was hungry.  I didn’t dwell on how much to eat, or whether I should eat more or eat less. [Don't be concerned, I don't have a problem eating enough.]

I’m not going to spend all my free time exercising, because there is a lot more to me than my love of yoga.  But today, I went to yoga class and I went for that run because it felt good.  I went because sometimes, just as I have days on which I want to be in a theater or browse ten thrift stores or dine excessively, I also have days on which I just want to move.  For me, that doesn’t entail fulfilling challenges or abiding by a training plan; it just means enjoying – no, reveling in – my young energy.  This morning, I did just that.

Has your relationship with exercise changed over time?  What drives you to move now?

share

I find it ironic that I went Saturday morning after 2 margaritas and a glass of wine and felt strong and fabulous, and today, following an early bedtime and an evening mug of tea, I sweat more than I possibly ever have in my life.  Where is the [...]]]> So, I almost died in yoga this morning.

I find it ironic that I went Saturday morning after 2 margaritas and a glass of wine and felt strong and fabulous, and today, following an early bedtime and an evening mug of tea, I sweat more than I possibly ever have in my life.  Where is the logic here?

Though the heat felt nearly unbearable, though my energy kept waning, though I needed ridiculous quantities of water – I still pushed myself through the entire class.  I always push myself.

Why?  Because I really believe that the old adage holds true: you never know until you try.  There is so much that is within our reach if we simply make an attempt.

a final passover dinner of red chard, asparagus, purple and red potatoes, poached eggs, evoo, and the new experiment that i finally attempted: homemade flax crackers.

If you had asked me five years ago if I could run a mile and enjoy it, I would have laughed.  Turns out:  I could run a mile.  I could actually run 5, or even 8, and I could truly fall in love with it.

The same goes for yoga.  Wasn’t it supposed to be some new-age stretching thing for hippies that don’t wear makeup?  Turns out:  it’s one of the most challenging yet rewarding practices I have ever brought into my life.  Turns out:  it’s made me stronger than I ever have been in my life.

I remember my nerves the first time I tried running.  I remember feeling terrified as I stepped into my first yoga class.  But I tried – and I was rewarded.

a repeat passover lunch: pumpkin seed pate, big salad with evoo and avocado.  turns out: a 100% raw and vegan lunch can satisfy me just fine – when i feel like it.

Throughout my Passover experimenting, I’ve had to try quite a few things.  Can I enjoy vegetables for breakfast?  Can I begin Bikram classes without fueling up on peanut butter toast? [Almond butter and banana has served me well as a replacement.]  Can I stay satisfied?  Would my experiments all flop?  The list went on.

Turns out: mixing things up didn’t hurt me.  Just look at what I made on Sunday night:

Yes, those are wraps, or tortillas, or whatever you’d like to call them.  They are kosher for Passover, wonderfully natural, and made by my two hands.  Oh, they are also slightly sweet, moist, and delicious.  I am quite proud.

I mostly followed this recipe, omitting the orange juice, which I didn’t have, in favor of the juice of half a lemon.  Also, I baked them at 200 degrees for an hour, flipping halfway through.  One was stuffed with avocado, chili powder, and carrots; the other got brie, caramelized onions and mushrooms.

My sister and I then cozied up on the couch with wine, Gossip Girl, and our plates [hers: Thai green vegetable curry over spaghetti squash].  As we dug in, I mentioned how much the success of this creation surprised me.  I couldn’t believe I actually made tortillas from flax and sweet potato – and tortillas that tasted good, no less.

She responded simply that she would normally be surprised, but because it was me in the kitchen, well – anything is possible.

We both know:  there’s almost nothing I won’t try.

What is something you’ve recently tried?

share